


Kneel Upon The Throne

by Gearsmoke



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale is a Brat, Bondage, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fanart, Gift Exchange, M/M, Revenge Sex, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Top Crowley (Good Omens), artwork, mild dub-con roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21783013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gearsmoke/pseuds/Gearsmoke
Summary: My gift exchange recipient is SparkleInTheStars!There are two parts to this package.Firstly, there is art.  The art is the main gift.There is also fic.  The fic may not fall perfectly within the recipient's taste, but I hope they do enjoy it.And so does everyone else!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 199
Collections: Oh Come All Ye Sinful! A Depraved Holiday Exchange 2019





	Kneel Upon The Throne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SparkleInTheStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleInTheStars/gifts).



[](https://i.imgur.com/u5dTDvM.jpg)  
  
  
“You know,” Crowley said, walking around his captive, “You honestly had me fooled. I really thought I could trust you. I am deeply hurt.” He paused, and when there was no snarky comment forthcoming, continued, “But that's why you've got nobody to blame for your current uh, situation, but yourself.”  
  
The bound angel glared, and tugged at the ropes holding him. He was tied to Crowley's throne in a patently humiliating position: Kneeling on the seat, facing the back of the chair with both wrists tied to the spires at the top of its carved back-panel.  
  
“So melodramatic. I suppose I should have expected you'd want to make a show of it.” Aziraphale snarked, huffing and rolling his eyes like the whole ordeal was so very _boring_.  
  
“Why not? You've betrayed me, why shouldn't I enjoy my revenge? Oh, Aziraphale...” He leaned in so that his eyes were level with the angel's. “I've put up with so much. But what you did... I am gonna enjoy teaching you a lesson. You know, I thought about discorporation, mutilation, feeding you to crocodiles... But I think I have just the thing.”  
  
Crowley picked something up off his desk, a strip of plain leather with silver hardware at each end, and a ring affixed at the midpoint – a collar. “I'm going to tame you, angel. You're going to be my pet.”  
  
A gasp, and Aziraphale pulled harder at the ropes, making the slick-grey nylon squeak. But the chair he was tied to had been transmuted from wood to iron under its coat of gold paint, and for some reason he was unable to summon his full angelic strength – some demonic magic woven into the chair, perhaps. With only the capabilities of his human body to draw upon, the bindings held him fast.  
  
“Absolutely not!” The angel huffed, “Out of the question! You untie me right this instant or-”  
  
“Or what?” Crowley snorted, “You'll whimper me to death? You'll pout until I discorporate?” He swiftly looped the collar around Aziraphale's throat, nimbly – but only barely – avoiding being bitten before he had the buckle secured at the back of the angel's neck.  
  
“Oh!” Exclaimed Aziraphale indignantly, “When I get out of these I'm going to give you the drubbing of your life!” His struggling only served to make his plump bare behind wriggle deliciously, and Crowley took his time watching with profound interest.

“In your fantasies, perhaps.” The demon smirked, making his way around to face the angel again. “I think I know exactly how I'm going to break you.” He stood up straight and began to undress, dropping each garment carelessly on the floor – oh, he knew how the angel hated that!

Aziraphale looked away from the flagrant malfeasance as if personally offended, but turned back when he heard the sound of a trouser zip, quickly blushing at how eager he was to get a look at his captor's body.  
  
And such a fine thing it was, too. All sculpted angles and sleek muscle, downy auburn hair trailing his belly to the groin, freckles across the shoulders and clavicle. Crowley un-manifested his shoes, pushed down and stepped out of his jeans, and when he stood up again, the demon's pink cock was at full attention, eager for the sort of retribution its owner had in mind. The angel tracked that prick's joyous bouncing as Crowley circled him again, until he could no longer see it from the position he was bound to.  
  
He huffed and settled his gaze back on the intricately-carved back of the chair, the angel fully expecting to see his tormentor come around the other side – what he did not expect was a sudden loud clap of a flat palm against his backside. It was more startling than painful, and Aziraphale let out a sharp yap, followed by a furious blush of embarrassment, “That's playing dirty, demon!”  
  
Crowley laughed, “Quite the mouth on you today.” He took off his mesh tie and fingered the metallic fabric, “I suggest you stay quiet, otherwise I'll have to do something to keep you quiet.” The captive angel opened his mouth as if to protest, but thought better of it and pouted in silence.  
  
“Ahh, you. I've put up with so much from you, angel. But this time, you've really crossed a line.” Crowley wound the tie around one hand, then lifted the other and delivered another echoing slap to Aziraphale's rump, the crack of flesh echoing through the flat's stark halls.  
  
“I put up with you making tea in my coffeepot and not washing it after.” Another smack.  
  
The angel whimpered.  
  
“I put up with you rearranging my CDs to the Dewey Decimal System.” Spank!  
“And bringing a geranium infested with _whitefly_ into my home.” Crack!  
“And erasing a week's worth of shows on my DVR.” Swat!  
“And putting a carton with literally a spoonful of cream back in the fridge, like an _animal_!”  
  
By this point, Aziraphale's rear was quite pink, and the angel was softly moaning. “It was enough for a tea!” He whined in protest.  
  
“Shush, you!” The demon snapped, “This last antic of yours, though - oh, that was unbelievable. How many times have I told you how much Miriam means to me? And you _desecrated_ her!”  
  
“You're overre-Yah!.” Aziraphale yelped at another slap to his already-sore rump.  
  
“You soiled her! You're a _monster_!”  
  
“I bet she likes getting a little dirty. You shelter her too much.”  
  
Snarling, Crowley grabbed onto the angel's collar and pulled, chafing Aziraphale's throat as he tugged the leather around to access the ring – snapping the clasp of a thin leash onto it.  
  
“If you know what's good for you, you'll prepare yourself. Because I won't.” Setting the tie aside – but within reach – Crowley turned his attention to his captive's bare rump. He held the leash taut, making Aziraphale arch his back delectably, and hooked the fingers of his other hand into the crook of the angel's plush thigh.

With a bit of concentrated will, Aziraphale made sure he was slick when Crowley began to rub the tip of his cock between the angel's cheeks, but he still gasped at the gut-clenching bump against his sensitive entrance. “You're g-going to regret this.” He tried to sound convincing, but he couldn't help shivering and blushing hotly at the teasing, “Defiling an angel of the Lord. Nh! You... you're going to pay dearly.”  
  
“Do you know what I think, angel? I think you've done terrible, terrible things, and your punishment is deserved. I am the wronged party, and my vengeance is _righteous!_ ” He emphasized the last word as he snapped his hips forward and pierced the bound celestial with his arrow.  
  
“G-ahh! Ohh!” Aziraphale couldn't help jerk back, eager to have the demon's gorgeous, thick cock buried in him. He had been trying his best to stay in character, but his focus was dissolving in his growing arousal. His own member throbbed and bounced as Crowley thrust into him, and his protests turned into heated moans of encouragement.  
  
“You're not supposed to be enjoying this, you brat!” The demon huffed, his sharp pelvic bones battering the soft arse under him. “Ah... ngh, fuck, you're so perfect.”  
  
“L-language.” Aziraphale whimpered, and got one of his nipples pinched for being tart. “Nah! Crowley!”  
  
“Not one more squeak out of you!” It wasn't as biting as he'd intended, but Crowley punctuated it with rough, deep thrusts that improved the impact – Aziraphale was only quiet for a few seconds before crying out again, a long, drawn-out wail, and Crowley grabbed his tie. He tugged the angel's head back by his hair and slipped the length of fine maille between Aziraphale's lips, tying a loose knot before returning his focus to soundly fucking his captive – albeit somewhat less _sound_ -ly, given the impromptu gag.

“Look at you, you randy little menace, you love having my cock up you, don't you?” Bending down, purring into Aziraphale's ear while fully sheathed inside that glorious celestial behind, Crowley let his wings unfurl, using their weight to help him thrust. “Yesss... this is how it should be. Just like my statue. Evil triumphing.” He cackled. “And you're enjoying every minute of it!”

Aziraphale didn't even try to deny it, moaning and panting around the mesh tie, pushing back into his tormentor's fervent thrusts, he began to whimper as he felt the evasive tingling of orgasm, just out of reach. “Nnh!”  
  
“Oh, I bet, ah- I bet you'd like it if I rubbed your prick for you, hm? Let you come? I know you'd love to come with my cock all the way inside you – with my semen filling you, mmn? Oh I know you would,” The demon moaned, gripping Aziraphale's hips and flapping as he repeatedly buried himself deep in his angel's beautiful, soft body. “Ah... N-not, fu- But 'm not gonna let ya, not 'til you admit your wrongdoing, you criminal!”  
  
“Hmf!” Aziraphale protested, as eloquently as the tie in his mouth would allow.  
  
“Oh, fine.” With a snap, the tie was back in Crowley's bedroom, hanging from the bedpost. “Now, then, ahem. Admitting your misdeeds, yeah?”  
  
“Y-yes, dear.” Aziraphale swallowed, head tilted back and eyes closed, sweat beading at his temple. “I've been terrible. Just- just awful!” It was hard to be eloquent when Crowley's cock was rubbing just there, where it made his thighs tremble and his own prick twitch. “I'm so sorry!”  
  
“And what did you do?” Crowley slowed his hips, running his empty hand up Aziraphale's belly and teasing at his nipple, around the suggestion of a navel, the curve of the angel's plump belly.  
  
Shaking, face flushed and erection dribbling as he was scrupulously fucked, “I ah... food. I brought food, I ate in your car.”  
  
Grinding in again, feeling the angel clenched around him, it was getting increasingly difficult for Crowley to remain angry, but he pictured the horror, the aftermath of the transgression. “What, _specifically_ , did you eat in my car?”  
  
“A... Ah! I- Oh, it was ah - Ice cream. A 99 Flake.” It had been a warm day, and the cold sweet called out to him, an irresistible siren song. …Or just the familiar, jingling tune the vendor's cart played on repeat.  
  
“Uh-huh. Yes, it was. And what happened to the ice cream, after you brought it into my pristine vehicle?”  
  
“It... mh- Oh my!” The angel squirmed; he was so, so close, if only he could rub against something, just a little friction, “Crowley, please! Oh please!”  
  
Slowing even further, the demon's tone darkened, “What _happened_ to the ice cream?”  
  
Aziraphale whined, “It melted!” He pressed his forehead to the chair's back, slumping in his bonds, “It melted, and I got drips on the seat.”  
  
“And?” Crowley's fingers circled the angel's crotch maddeningly,  
  
“A-and on the floor!” Not much unlike how he was dripping on the velour upholstery under him.  
  
A beat. “Annnd?”  
  
Aziraphale swallowed, mentally reenacting the crime. “And... the dashboard. And the door. And the window crank... and the window.”  
  
“Yes you did. The entire blessed passenger's side was sticky! It took three miracles to get it out of the leather.”  
  
“I'm so sorry, I really am. I truly repent!” The angel did sound recalcitrant, but he'd also had a lot of practice.  
  
Crowley scoffed, “You just want to come, admit it.”  
  
The angel made a muffled sound, and admitted, “Of course I do. But I'm also sorry.”  
  
With a smirk, the demon's slim, nimble fingers wrapped around Aziraphale's effort. He began to stroke, rough and firm, and growled, “No you're not.”  
  
“No,” Agreed Aziraphale, “I'm not.”  
  
Crowley pistoned roughly into the roped celestial, snarling through his teeth, “Bastard.” Pulling the leash taut, he braced one foot against the edge of the chair seat and flapped his wings, rutting into the soft, yielding body with renewed fury, matching the rhythm with his tugging hand until he felt the muscles under that cushy exterior tense and quiver.  
  
“Mmhm, You complete and utter fucker.” The demon purred, feeling himself closing in, “Go on then, come.”  
  
In a moment of worried lucidity, Aziraphale gasped out, “Wa... what about your chair?”  
  
“Oh, nah. I've gotten spunk on it a thousand times, wipes right off.”  
  
Imagery of Crowley pleasuring himself in the chair flickered through the angel's imagination (Which, while limited, was still functional enough to provide _that_ fuel,) and he clenched around the demon's pumping cock. “Oh! Ah! Cro-aah! You wicked thing!”  
  
Crowley's own speech center was starting to short out as well, but he loved how a little dirty talk could unravel his partner, and he continued, “Oh yes, I've sat right where you are, so many times, with my hand on my dick – like it's on yours now – stroking it, rubbing my thumb over the slit... nngh!” He shuddered, he was close, and he could feel Aziraphale's urgency as well.  
  
“Close! Please, Crowley!”  
  
“Stroking, squeezing my balls.” The demon panted, numbness spreading through him as his climax approached, “With my legs up over the arms, and m-my fingers in... in my.., Ah..nngh!” Crowley gave the heavenly prick in his hand another squeeze, and Aziraphale loosed a throaty cry of fulfillment, clenching and shuddering around Crowley's cock.  
  
The angel came first, lashing the chair's crimson upholstery with several long spurts of fluid – the spasms shuddering through him tilting his demon into his own orgasm – if the chair had not been transmuted into iron, it would have been a messy pile of splinters by the time the two of them were done with it. Crowley shoved forward, hilting himself in his beloved monster of an angel, his entire body pulsing with release, and Aziraphale made the most tantalizing, sinful sound at being filled.

They remained resting like that, interlocked, for a while, letting their breathing slow, Crowley tucked against Aziraphale's back, resting his cheek on the angel's shoulder. He would have liked to stay that way longer, but he still had responsibilities. So he disentangled himself, gingerly pulling out of his partner's sensitive rear, and he started untying the ropes.  
  
Within a few more minutes, he'd have them both clean and dry, the chafe-marks on Aziraphale would be faint pink lines, and they would be nestled together in Crowley's broad bed, the demon's head resting against his lover's chest, listening to his partner's calm heartbeat.  
  
“Are you even a little bit sorry?” Crowley traced circles over his angel's soft stomach.  
  
“Well, yes. I know you love your car, and I didn't think before I acted.”  
  
“I see. I'm glad you learned your lesson.”  
  
Aziraphale snickered. “Oh, well. I wouldn't say that. If I learned anything it's how to get you to bugger me like a beast.”  
  
“You wouldn't dare.” Crowley's fingers tensed. “I just cleaned her!”  
  
“No? I was thinking, next time I could bring a nice curry.”  
  
“Agh!”  
  
“Lots of turmeric and saffron...”  
  
“And you call me a demon! Don't you even _think_ about it!”  
  
Hugging the demon closer, Aziraphale kissed him on the cheek and grinned, “I tease, my love. I wouldn't. Seeing that stricken look on your face once was enough. I hope our little game made up for it?”  
  
With an indignant little huff, Crowley pressed his cheek against his angel's clavicle and muttered, “It's a start.”

“Well then. It's a start.”

  
  
  



End file.
